SERIOUSLY? F*CK THIS KID

So as you may already know, I'm in a bit of a...mood, especially when it comes to anything relationship-y. I glare at couples that get all PDA-y on the subway. I change the channel when I see a romantic movie on TV. I shy away from hanging out with my couple-friends.

I curse the shit out of 9 year olds who think they've got this "girls" thing figured out. Y'know. Little of this. Little of that.

He's only 9, but this pint-sized pickup artist already knows plenty about pleasing the ladies.

In light of recent events, I'm not exactly the expert on "the ladies," but let me unequivocally tell you that NO, no this little fucktwat doesn't know plenty about "pleasing the ladies." And if he does, his parents should be arrested. Fucking pervs.

Alec Greven's dating primer, "How to Talk to Girls" - which began as a handwritten, $3 pamphlet sold at his school book fair - hit the shelves nationwide last week.

Ok ferreals? I know this is all just as fucking adorable as all get-out, and good for him and all this, but if I ever see this kid I'm going to boot him like I'm trying to make a game-winning 54 yard field goal with 0:03 left on the clock in the Super Bowl.

In a related story, I'm not bitter.

The fourth-grader from Castle Rock, Colo., advises Lothario wannabes to stop showing off,

WRONG shitstain! Bitches love it when I do a forward round-off for them in the club. Having done multiple years of gymnastics as a child is SEXY to the ladies and so not gay that it literally, physically hurts.

go easy on the compliments to avoid looking desperate

Well...ok. I mean I guess this is how a 9 year old would say "don't love these ho's." So yea...I'll give him this one.

- and be wary of "pretty girls."

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Ok so fine, that's another valid point. I'm still all like, "fuck this kid." Not in the literal sense though. That's fucking gross. You pervert.

"It is easy to spot pretty girls because they have big earrings, fancy dresses and all the jewelry," he writes in Chapter Three.

Ooo, ooo, um, also? Um, they're also fucking physically attractive dipshit! And maybe it changes through the years, or from locale to locale, because big earrings and fancy dresses around the greater New York area, don't necessarily guarantee "pretty:"Although she did have a show where a bunch of assclowns competed to get with her, so maybe she's doing something right.

"Pretty girls are like cars that need a lot of oil."

YEA BUDDY, NOW WE'RE FUCKIN TALKIN!!! Yea, they need a LOT of "oil," hehehehehe amiright amiright amiright? Imright.

Sorry what? Simile inferring being "high maintenance?" Oh. OHHHHH...ok. Makes sense. I was just about to be all, "a little young for the 'fucking' analogies, aren't we?" but, so yea. Pretty girls are high maintenance. This kid isn't a total Trig Palin.

The best choice for most boys is a regular girl. Remember, some pretty girls are coldhearted when it comes to boys. Don't let them get to you."

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Hi there, everybody! Brent Cocklog here. Long time no see! Ahem, our dear friend and my co-worker Berbalerbs just ran by my desk crying and mumbled something about "finish my blog" or "pretty girls" or "I'm gonna end it" or maybe all three or something but hey! Here I am! Let me just catch up with all of you and read what we have so far...


Hm...


Okay...


Hehe, bitter much? But whatever, let's keep stompin' on the 9 year old.

As for his how-to, he concedes, "I never expected people to buy it like a regular book in a bookstore."

And there you have it. 9 year old's logic > Huge National Publisher Harper Collins' logic

But with classic plain-spoken advice - like "comb your hair and don't wear sweats" - it's no surprise his 46-page book was a hit with boys and girls of all ages.

So...let me get this straight...this is a book that hypothetically parents will buy for their 8 and 9 year olds...so that the children...can learn how to effectively tapdatass? 'Cause if you're trying to reach adults, you're going to have to do WAAAAAAYY better than "comb your hair and don't wear sweats." I mean, for starters, you can go research and write about which roofies are the hardest to trace? Huh? Now that's relationship advice I can get behind...

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HAHAHAHAHAHAHA "GET BEHIND" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH GOD I COULDN'T HOLD IT. Onwards,

He believes the best way to approach a girl is to keep it to a simple "hi."

Now this is where he is actually very similar to adults who, you know, have actually dated before and have any fucking business writing books like these. They all say this. "Just say hi." "Just walk on up and say, 'Hi! I'm Brent!'" AND FUCKING THEN WHAT, CAPTAIN TAINT?!? Just stand there like a fucking labatomy post-op, waiting for her to say "wow, your candor and forwardness makes me really curious as to what your dick tastes like!"

At this point we get it. Pick-up lines, in the traditional sense, are corny. They come off sleazy, and nobody (especially not that fine-ass chick you just strolled up to) finds them funny. It is better to just go up to someone and introduce yourself. That isn't really the problem. Maybe it's difficult for us to muster up the courage to walk up to a girl we find attractive, but we know how to walk up to them and I'm pretty sure a healthy majority of us are comfortable by now with how to introduce one's self, but THEN WHAT? And if you don't have an answer, fine, but stop treating this "just say hi" shit like it's a complete answer. It's not.

As for his own love life, he said he is not dating anyone at the moment. "I'm a little too young," he confessed.

"Although," he added, "certainly not too young to write about the subject as an expert and expect people to pay money for my writing. I'm definitely experienced enough for that."

Dating - which he defines as going out to dinner without your parents - is for "kind of old" people, who are 15 or 16.

I'm kinda starting to see why Berbalerbs ran screaming.

Alec - who just finished a children's book on the Watergate scandal

Well, whoopdee fuckin-- really? He wrote about Watergate? Hm. I wonder if it was from the perspective of Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein or that of Nixon and his cronies...I mean, FUCK THIS KID!

Not literally, of course. That's fucking gross. You pervert.

OH GOD HE'S GOING TO TRY AND ACTUALLY WRITE ABOUT SOMETHING

Hey, shut up, title of my blog!! Why you always gotta be so hurtful?

So ok, before I start pouring you all a cup of downer juice (now with REAL strawberrys!) I want to update our loyal readership (what's good Pem??) on a story I began to tell in an earlier blog.

Maybe [I'm mad] at the bartender last night for mixing my rum and cokes so strong that I woke up this morning an hour and a half late while still fully dressed in my clothes from the night before and later learned that I had to be dragged-- literally dragged-- out of the bar and have no recollection of my trip home. (Thanks to Pem and Kramez for the assist).

Now why would I stop telling a story that began like that?? Well, because I wasn't cognizant for the remainder of it.

What Berbalerbs Thought Happened When He Returned Home: Went to sleep.

What Actually Happened Upon Berbalerbs's's Arrival Home: He saw his next door neighbor, chilled for a while, realized he had lost his fucking phone and then his neighbor kept calling it until a cabbie picked up and returned it (to which a plasteredfaceded Berbalerbs awarded by giving him $10). Then apparently B wanted a little more substance to the evening. The green substance that happens to have some side effects if you happen to light it on fire, to be exact. So let's just say we have "people" who are most helpful in situations such as these, and some...substance was attained. And apprently a LOT of it was consumed (I should pause here and let you know that besides it being fucking HILARIOUS that I did all of this whilst blacked out, this particular piece of news was glorious to hear, because I had been walking around all day mad at myself for "losing" $50). Then I insisted that I wanted to lay vocals for a song we'd been working on (hehe, "we'd," hehe) and obviously that was an epic FAIL. All in all, I apparently was up for like 2 more hours than I thought, made some purchases, tried to record something, and retrieved the phone that I wasn't aware that I lost.

Funny stuff right? Right. Now let's talk about how I got dumped last night, in a piece I'd like to call

Fuck You, Facebook Relationship Status. Fuck You Right in The Eye.

So I'm at my place, and I just finished hearing the hilarious antics of blacked-out me. I'm down in the kitchen getting some snacks. I'm happy the work day is over.

Then I get a text from my girlfriend.

hey can we talk?

Eesh. Doesn't sound like great news. Called. Turns out, it wasn't great news.

Now I'm not going to go over the fine points of why it happened. I'm not really 100% sure why it did, and I'm not in the position nor the mood to speculate. The break-up was very much the "it's not you it's me," and I do appreciate that she did it as opposed to letting it drag on when she wasn't into it. Still, it sucks pretty fucking bad.

So I'm trying my best to process this whole thing (kinda came out of nowhere...either that or I have to step my "noticing the obvious" game up), and it something occurs to me.

A chill shoots up my spine.

Meer days before, I did something that I will never ever do again ever in my life ever again ever in my life ever again ever. Ever. Never. Ever. Again in my life. Ever.

Never.

Ever.

Again.

In my life

Ever.

I changed my fucking Facebook Relationship Status to "In a Relationship."

Ever.

Never.

Ever.

In my life. Again. Ever.

There is a new line of thinking in this "Web 2.0" world, that nothing, NOTHING is a more official indicator of the level of seriousness of an individual's social status than the fucking Facebook Relationsip Status. I mean, you must be really fucking serious to click on that little pencil icon near your personal information and choose an option from a drop-down menu on a social networking website usually used for "Pimp Fighting" friends and family.

We (girl and I) had been exclusive and pretty serious for a while (not terribly long, we had dated for 3 or 4 months and been really serious for like 6 weeks or something), but I had waited to "make the big move" (aka change my relationship status on facebook) in fear that I would change the status, and then something would happen and then I'd look like a big loser-faced loser because I had to change it right back. Phew, glad that didn't happen!

The reason for my trepidation? Well, this has happened to me before. Fairly recently actually. With the last girl I was in a relationship with. I think I'll look back at 2008 as the year "Love Took a Steaming Dump On My Face." The last one was a whole other set of circumstances (and thank GOD-fully I didn't change my status last time), but long story short, literally a day after I finally got the balls to be straight with this girl and tell her I cared about her and wanted to be exclusive and wanted to be her boyfriend (which she seemed very happy about), she avoided my calls for a week and finally called me and dumped me.

Now that SUCKED. But at least it wasn't presented neatly to all of my friends, co-workers, acquaintances, some total strangers, and a few camera-phone whores who want 10,000 friends by 2009. At least it wasn't the 800 lb. gorilla in the room to basically EVERYONE I KNOW.

Maybe that's why it's seen as such an official thing. This is how we communicate anymore. I have friends who won't answer a phone call, but when I follow up with a text, they hit me back immediately. I have friends who won't answer any method of phone communication but will respond to a Facebook message within 10 minutes of my sending it. I guess what I'm really trying to say here is: I have friends (REGARDLESS OF WHAT YOU HEAR FROM PEM! THAT GUYS A DOUCHE!).

So I did it. I just got rid of the whole "Relationship Status," and I guess I'm wondering why I ever decided to show it in the first place. Maybe it's because 2008 really hasn't been a bad year for me at all, and for most of it I was available, and maybe I just wanted all those camera-phone whores to know I was available.

Well, thanks for letting me waste your time. I'll try and find a story about someone hitting someone else with a dildo or a good video of a nut-shot before the days end.

Peace bitches.